


Precipice

by HappyCamper27



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark, Implied Insanity, it's seriously just dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:12:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCamper27/pseuds/HappyCamper27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, the darkness is too much, and the thought of falling far too tempting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes he wondered why he even tried. Honestly—it didn’t even make any sense; they just ran around in circles, trapped in a vicious cycle of death, mayhem, and pain. It was nothing but pain, and some days he just wanted to put his head between his knees and _give in_ , letting that darkness that festered at the back of his head take control.

But he couldn’t, he knew. Not only would Crown Clown refuse to let him, Neah would firmly pull him away from that darkness, and the two would cite balance and how he was the _gray_ that centered their _black_ and _white_.

For a moment, he wondered how Mana had felt, carefree in his gentle insanity; free and flying so _high_ that he _never came back down_ —

—ah, there it was again, rising up, pulling him down, down, _down_ into loose uncaring darkness…or was it pulling him _up_? He couldn’t really tell, all he knew was that it made him feel light and floaty and _free_ , and he knew he was _addicted_ but he couldn’t stop his footsteps on that precipice.

A gentle tug from Neah pulled him away, Crown Clown holding him gently in her warmth even as Neah sent feelings of disapproval and _stay away_. He knew he would never be able to _stay away_ from that precipice—he would be standing on that edge, be walking that tightrope, tempting fate as he wavered between _sanity_ and _insanity_ , before long, once again. After all, he was _addicted_ , and why shouldn’t he indulge? It wasn’t like things like _reality_ and _sanity_ were necessary, were they?

And what was sanity anyway, but a reality you forced upon yourself? A way of thinking that was caged by normality, a chained down delusion?

And yet he knew that he had to remain on that edge, forever knowing the temptation of that darkness but never able to give in, for he had a mission—a job. He would end the Holy War, end the Noah, destroy the Akuma—nono _no_ , _save_ the Akuma, that was what Mana wanted, wasn’t it?—and finally be free of his pressing duty to reality.

But it wasn’t time yet, and he had to continue. Yet…someday. _Someday_ , he would _fall_ into that darkness, and Crown Clown and Neah would follow him—oh, he knew that Neah would hate every minute of it, but the lonely, once-dead Noah would never let the last vestige of his now-dead brother fade from his sight. They would follow, and they would tumble head-first into that darkness, and be free of the pain and sorrow that _reality_ and _sanity_ brought.

But he would wait for that _someday_ to come and take him away, into a twisted _Wonderland_ where death and pain never touched him.

For now, though, he resigned himself to the painpain _pain_ and hate and _sorrow_ that plagued _reality_ and _sanity_ —

—as he waited for _insanity_ to claim him.


	2. Chapter 2

It frustrated him. They toed the line, teetering on the edge between _sanity_ and _insanity_ , like they were walking a tightrope with a boy on the edge of _loosing_ _it_ leading them in a demented game of _follow-the-leader_ and they were his only balance.  Even though he _hated_ that whitewhite _white_ Innocence that sparked and gleamed an eerie green, he had to admit that her grasp had saved their little ring-leader more than once.

And maybe, just _maybe_ , he could admit that deep down—very, _very deep down_ , hidden in the depths of his black-stained soul—that he was scared. Scared of loosing his pseudo-nephew to the very same _insanity_ that had whisked away his once-brother after his death—or was it before?

After all, they were far closer than anyone really knew. He knew, though. He knew just what it was that had submerged his once-brother into the depths of darkness, cracking and warping him beyond all recognition.

And now—now they were enemies. They were on two separate sides, with him torn between the two remnants of his once-brother.

Allen Walker…

…And Mana Walker. Or rather, what was _once_ Mana Walker, before his mind broke and shattered into hundreds of millions of little, _itty-bitty shards_ , scattered to the four winds.

And now the last _sane_ vestige of his once-brother, of the Mana he had known since birth and had always walked beside, the Mana- _that-was-gone_ , was falling away, soon to be claimed by that very same darkness.

And maybe, just _maybe_ —and _my_ , didn’t he seem to be saying that so _very often_?—what he was afraid of wasn’t just of loosing his pseudo-nephew. It was of loosing that very last remnant, that last vestige of his once-brother.

And maybe, he wasn’t just afraid of those, but the blackness that he knew would follow, the knowledge that should his pseudo-nephew fall into that blackblack _black_ darkness that had claimed his once-brother he would follow without remorse, would throw himself _willingly_ into _insanity_ because there would _be nothing left_ , _nothing left to care about_ , _no world worth watching over or ruling_.

Because a world without his pseudo-nephew and once-brother—

n—he couldn’t stand the very idea. He would break, should such a thing come to pass.

He would break, and he would _break so very beautifully_ , _shattering_ into millions of tiny pieces, every last piece of the once-him lost to eternity as he joined his pseudo-nephew and once-brother in their mad, _mad Wonderland_.

And maybe, just _maybe_ , what really scared him…

…was the fact that if they wished it, he would set the world to burning and raze the universe to the ground without a second thought. He would _submit_ , and they would laugh as the universe _burned_ and his pseudo-nephew and once-brother pulled the once-him along in a rage of _madness_.

Or maybe it was the fact that he would _let them_ , and _let them gladly_ , in the end.

Because a world without them…was a world worth nothing to him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was painful. It clawed and scratched and bit and tore, snarling wordlessly in the pit of her metaphorical belly. It was like liquid fire ran through her heart, watching the very same one she protected, her _partner_ , teetering on the edge.

And sometimes she wondered if it were really worth it, pulling him away from something that would grant him a happiness that had been long since denied to him. For, truly, while she desperately wanted to _fight_ , to eliminate the cloying shadows of Dark Matter that haunted the world, she knew that her priorities had shifted. Perhaps, once upon a time, she could have disregarded his happiness and well-being to push them both further in a war that had been fought for millennia, claiming so many lives and causing so much pain. But now…she wanted nothing more than to make sure that her _partner_ , sweet and kind and gentle as he was, was happy, in anyway she could. Happy and _safe_ , and if it took him falling into that _darkness_ , then so be it.

But for now she couldn’t let him, else the other pieces take notice and scream at her, scream traitortraitor _traitor_ and send them all—all three of them and their tenuous balance and truce—spiraling into a chaos that would set the world aflame and they would be lost, the _war_ would be lost.

All she wanted was for him to be happy and safe. She knew that life and the world had long since stolen it away from him, and that they were his one last chance. For if he _fell_ —and he _would_ , _soonsoonsoon_ , so _soon_ —then they would fall after him, following with joy in their hearts and minds breaking. That _Noah_ would follow, she knew, for selfish reasons, to hold on desperately to the last remnants of his once-family and the bright happy-peace they could have once had, had the world not been cruel and harsh, stealing it away before it could be realized.

And, she supposed, her reasons were selfish as well. She couldn’t bring herself to let go of her _partner_ , of the child she had guarded and watched over, despite how much suffering she had brought him. He was _hers_ , and she _would_ follow him, no matter where he led. No others would _touch_ him, he was _her_ Accommodator, and she was _his_ Innocence.

And despite that cold, hard center to his heart—for _Red_ had been cold and nasty, hardened to the cruelty of the world even as he retaliated and spewed forth his own chill words and hatred— _her partner_ was so, _so warm_ and _kind_ , loving her even though she had hurt him so much.

It was painful. But it was also rapture, following her _one and only partner, her Accommodator_ , no matter where he led her. And she _would follow_.

Even if it meant naught but death and destruction and fire. He was _hers_.

_He_ was all that mattered to her, in the end.


End file.
